


Brindisi

by Thornofthelily



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking, Established Relationship, F/F, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, M/M, MakoHaru on the side, Post-Canon, impaired inhibitions, some light hearted but non-consensual touching and flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thornofthelily/pseuds/Thornofthelily
Summary: Thisis why Akira hates when Goro drinks. He turns into the most shameless, relentless, incorrigible show-offy flirt ever to be seen in Tokyo.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Niijima Makoto/Okumura Haru
Comments: 12
Kudos: 195





	Brindisi

Akira hates it when Goro drinks.

He’s not an alcoholic, he doesn’t have a problem, and nothing bad really happens when he does. It’s really not that dramatic, but Akira still hates it. They’ve been together for years now, and if anything, he drinks considerably less than he used to, when, you know, he was murdering people for his asshole father out of a desperate adolescent need to grasp for whatever love and attention he could scrape from his hollowed-out soul. He’s better than he was back then. Since he and Akira started dating, he’s gradually been opening up, getting therapy, and is finally receptive to Akira’s affections without needing to qualify it with some long-winded philosophy rant or turning it into a competition.

No, things are great. They have problems, sure, but nothing at the level that would warrant a late-night news special about the dangers of drinking. It’s not a feature in their household, not something they order when they go out to eat. It’s enough of a non-issue Akira really shouldn’t have any feelings about it. They really only have a few glasses when out with friends for a celebration or a party of some kind.

 _That’s_ when things can get a little… weird.

So when the Phantom Thieves plan a ten-year reunion at Leblanc, Ryuji offering to bring the beer and Haru offering up wines she had been thinking of selling at a new high-class restaurant chain she just started and Yusuke suggesting some bizarre cocktails he read about on the internet, Akira starts getting a little anxious.

It’s almost certainly not a big deal. They will be with his friends, in a familiar, private place. Sojiro said he’d even close up the store for the evening for them. And Goro knows his friends, likes some of them individually, and tolerates them generally even if he finds them a bit – _insufferable_ was the word he used – when they’re all in a big group. He tends to go quiet and hang back from group outings, because no matter how much you change and how much progress you make in therapy, it’s kind of hard to forget that time you murdered two of your boyfriend’s friends’ parents. Akira probably doesn’t have anything to worry about. Probably.

But none of his friends have experienced drunk Goro. Akira hopes to keep it that way.

When they enter Leblanc that evening, Akira with a wide, open smile and Goro quietly nodding greetings to his favorite people, he’s convinced himself that this will be fine, it’s fine. Goro only drinks when he’s stressed or sad, and there’s no reason for him to be either, tonight.

But some people had, ah, started “pre-gaming.”

“Yoooo what is UP, Akira!” Ryuji says, about a thousand decibels too loud, his smile almost falling off his face. He loops his arm around Akira’s neck so hard he thinks he hears something crack, and he’s thrown off balance, staring at the floor and barely keeping his glasses on his face. _Okay, so we have Loud Public Hugger Ryuji, that’s about three drinks already._ “Glad to see you n’ Akechi could make it! _”_

Akira rights himself and adjusts Ryuji’s arm on his neck only to see Goro veering off immediately towards the shop counter. “Of course, man, wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He’s a little distracted, keeping an eye on Goro – then relaxes when he sees Goro quietly taking a tiny cup of espresso from Futaba and downing it like a shot. Maybe not… the best sign, but it’s better than taking an actual shot.

Ann waves at him from the nearest table, a half-empty colorful cocktail resting between her hands. “Akira! I’m _so_ glad I could make it! You would not _believe_ what my agents were trying to schedule for me, but I’m so glad to see you in person!”

Joy floods his system at seeing her. She’s recently added a pink streak to one of her now-signature pigtails after becoming a leading model in a lot of high-profile fashion shoots. Still going strong after all these years, her schedule keeps her on a whirlwind tour of the globe, so she doesn’t always make these little get-togethers. Morgana sits on the table opposite her, a wide-rimmed goblet filled with some reddish orange liquid. _Surely._ _ **Surely**_ _he’s not drinking too?_

“Dude, didja know?” Ryuji jostles him, trying to whisper but managing to just avoid screaming right in his ear. “They make wine! For _cats_!”

“I’m not a cat,” Morgana says primly, even as he laps up the drink with prim little licks.

Ann snickers. “Well, it sure isn’t people-wine. I tried it, and it’s _terrible._ ”

“It’s got catnip and salmon in it,” Ryuji stage-shouts.

Akira basks for just a moment in the glow of it. Morgana, Ryuji, Ann. While he loves all his friends dearly, these were the original Phantom Thieves, the ones who joined forces to take down a horrible monster at their school. They’d been through each Palace together, the four of them, and Akira has always felt like that gave them a little extra bond.

“Well, don’t get too drunk, Morgana,” Akira warns in a humorous deadpan. “Or I’ll have to take your keys.”

“Ohhh, I get it! Cuz he like, used to be a bus, right?”

Akira pats Ryuji’s arm as he extricates himself from under it. “Never change, dude.”

He shoots another glance down the shop at Goro, who is currently nursing a tall clear glass of water, courtesy of Yusuke. He’s talking to him very enthusiastically about the pure clarity of the glass and the sharp crisp flavor of the drink, and something something art and beauty and aesthetics, but whatever he’s on about, Goro is holding the glass to his lips like he’s stuck to it, constantly taking minute sips as though distracting himself from Yusuke’s endearing rambling, cringing microscopically.

Futaba excuses herself from the bar and brandishes – yup, that’s a foam Minecraft sword alright. “En garde, villain!” She crows bravely, wiggling the foam 8-bit weapon in Akira’s face. “Consequences must be faced for being late to the big party!”

Akira puts a hand over his heart and bows his head solemnly, “Master Futaba, please, hear me out. I was not, in fact, late, everyone else was just here early.”

“Hmmmmm~” She pauses, considering, tapping her chin with the tip of the sword. “I suppose I’ll grant you that. I still live with Sojiro, Yusuke and Ryuji happened to be in town, Haru’s been at corporate for a while, Makoto is on break from getting her Masters, and Ann made sure her flight was wayyy early so she wouldn’t miss it even if she had delays. So I will grant you, lowly squire, that you are not, in fact, late!”

Akira finally bursts into a big grin, ruffling Futaba’s wild dyed-orange hair, much to her flustered consternation. “Seriously, though, Minecraft? You just got your computer science degree and _Minecraft_ is the game you’re still fixated on?”

“It’s the height of creative expressive freedom in gaming!” She defends hotly.

“And it has nothing to do with hacking into private servers to hunt down griefers?”

Caught off-guard, she blinks in surprise before her face splits out into a cheeky grin. “I, uhh, might be doing a little Phantom white-hat hacking on the side, it’s true.”

Before he can either praise or scold her (he isn’t sure which he prefers, honestly), he catches movement from the corner on his eye. Goro, still listening to Yusuke, actually says something, but it’s too low for him to hear, and it somehow makes Yusuke pause, tilting his head curiously. Goro claps Yusuke on the arm, patting him with a strange familiarity before walking off to talk to Ann, passing wordlessly by Akira in the process.

Normally, he might wonder if Goro needs some time alone to think, to… re-calibrate, as he sometimes said. But he knows Goro and Ann have gotten pretty close in the last few years, so talking to her is, if anything, a good sign.

Besides, Makoto and Haru are sitting at one of the tables furthest back, and he needs to go say hi to his favorite couple. He pats Futaba on the head as she decides to challenge Ryuji to a good old-fashioned duel.

Haru daintily sips from her wine glass, always pausing to breathe in the bouquet before taking a taste, letting it linger a moment before finally swallowing. Her wife, meanwhile, contents herself with one of Ryuji’s beers, swinging it idly from the neck.

“Good evening, Akira,” Haru greets with a polite smile. It still gives him chills, a little bit, to see how sophisticated and refined she’d become after officially taking over Okumura Foods. With several successful restaurant chains to her name – including her own pet project, the cafe where she personally oversees the home-growing of each and every ingredient served, just like she always planned – she’s now more than capable of helping Makoto as she pursues her bachelor’s in criminal justice.

After getting a few years of experience as a beat cop, she got a little...rattled by what she saw, and has been considering a move to public defense lately, like her sister, as a more direct way to help the weak. She’s still unsure, but justified that a higher degree would be helpful for her, anyway. She smiles up at him, looking a little tired, probably because she has been studying like crazy for finals, based on their group chat. “Hey, Akira. How have things been with you and Goro?”

He refrains from flinching, just barely. Even now, Makoto still tends to ask questions like an interrogator. “Good as always, _Mom,_ ” he teases, and she blushes a little, mollified. “Just like every other time you ask.”

“Sorry, but can you blame me? He did try to murder you. At least twice.”

“What’s a little murder between lovers?”

Makoto sighs. “I will never understand you, Akira.”

Akira freely shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe change your major to psychology?”

Makoto rolls her eyes. “What, Ryuji’s specialty?” She eyes him dubiously across the cafe, using his empty beer bottle to playfully sword fight with Futaba. “She doesn’t even drink, and she gets like that…” She shakes her head disapprovingly.

“Now, now, Mako-chan,” Haru teases with a smile. “Futaba is the youngest of us, physically, and Ryuji is the youngest of us, mentally. That means they get along great!”

They both stare at her wide-eyed. Her wine glass is mostly full, but Akira leans over and cautiously whispers, “How many glasses is does that make…?”

Makoto swallows. “That’s… her fourth one. Since we arrived. She had a few back home.”

Dread drops into Akira’s stomach. Haru can be downright _wicked_ when she drinks, blazingly honest in a way that cuts right to your core, all while wearing a beautiful smile. “Well, let’s keep her and Goro away from each other, then, shall we?”

“Agreed.”

Finally, last but not least, Sumire. Still wearing her big coat to protect from the winter chill outside, sitting shyly by herself at the counter, like she’s not quite sure where she fits in still.

“Senpai!” Her eyes brighten when Akira walks over. “Thank you for inviting me, I really appreciate it!” She still has that Kasumi brightness to her voice, something Akira can never decide if it’s natural or a leftover of Maruki’s messed-up idea of “therapy.” She’s been seeing a real therapist since – in fact, she recommended Goro to his- – but her sister’s ghost still lingers, sometimes, and it’s hard to know what’s healthy confidence and admiration and what is leftover brainwashing.

“Of course, Sumire. You might have only been a Phantom Thief for one mission, but it was one of our most important ones. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

She flushes a little, eyes darting down demurely. “Senpai…” She toys with a lock of hair. Did she get that from him? He wonders a little if she still has that crush on him, after all this time.

“By the way,” she murmurs, raising her eyes with a little bit of effort over to Goro. “Do you think it’s okay for him? To be, you know…?”

Akira follows her gaze to see him finish off Ann’s colorful cocktail, and he winces a little. Sumire is the only other person who’s seen what he’s like when he’s had a few drinks in him. But that’s his first one, and it takes quite a few before he gets _that_ bad, so he’s sure it’s okay. “Yeah, I think so. I’m trying to keep an eye on him.”

“I have been too,” Sumire murmurs, a little embarrassed. “It’s just, last time was… memorable. I don’t want him to feel bad about it in the morning.”

That makes Akira laugh, a little derisively. “Well, he never remembers it by morning, so no worries about that, I suppose.”

Goro’s leaning heavily on Ann, who’s laughing and fluffing his hair. Then he reaches out and starts petting Morgana, rubbing him behind the ears and under his chin. Morgana yeowls happily, loud enough that Akira can hear him across the shop. The cat rolls onto his back and nuzzles into Goro’s gloved hands. Goro’s right hand even rubs his belly, which normally Morgana hates, but his eyes are closed in bliss, mouth half-open. He’s never, _never_ seen Goro pet Morgana before! He hopes this is a sign they are getting along better.

He thanks Sumire for visiting once again, deciding to check on his boyfriend. By the time he’s sitting in the booth opposite Ann, he can hear Morgana’s blissed-out purring as Goro enthusiastically pets him: down his belly, his back, massaging his pawns between his fingers. Neither of them even bother looking up as Akira slides in.

“What’s with this?” Akira jokes, gesturing to the two of them. Ann stifles a furious giggle behind her hand, her smile loose and open enough to suggest she’s already a little tipsy.

“Morgana got a big dose of catnip and has been demanding cuddles. And then Akechi-kun just sat down and started petting him like crazy!”

Akira can barely even see Goro’s eyes because his head is doubled over, nearly pressing his face into Morgana’s furry belly. Morgana flexes his paws in the air, claws curling and uncurling against nothing.

“Are you having a good time, Goro?” He teases, amused to see Goro so thoroughly throw himself into this when before he had described petting Morgana as _about as tempting as stroking the face of a stranger on the subway, and half_ _as_ _tactually_ _stimulating._

“Soft,” Goro murmurs distantly. Akira raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“ _Soft,_ ” he repeats emphatically, fingers threading into black-and-white fur and pressing gently against a purring belly.

Well, that’s not right. “Ann, how much alcohol was in your drink?”

“Hmm?” She asks, too busy spinning the empty hurricane glass in her fingers. “I dunno, a normal amount, I guess?”

Akira frowns. That’s _definitely_ not right. Most of one cocktail wouldn’t – shouldn’t – have this much effect. “Goro, are you feeling –”

“You might have muscles,” Futaba’s voice echoes through the room, and everyone glances at her at her aggressive tone change, only to roll their eyes and go back to whatever they were doing at the sight, “but I have a _diamond_ sword! I’m basically unbeatable!”

At that outburst, Goro’s eyes widen, and he stands up suddenly, earning a displeased whine from Morgana who tries to capture his arm with one lazy swipe of his paw. He walks between Futaba and Ryuji, still having their mock-battle, and just wraps one hand around Ryuji’s bicep. Ryuji and Akira freeze.

“Hmm,” Goro considers thoughtfully, squeezing. “Hard.”

Ryuji’s face goes bright red. “ _What?_ ”

“You have do have nice muscles, Sakamoto,” he says blithely, as though this isn’t the weirdest fucking thing he’s ever said or done.

“I...whu?” His voice collapses into a squeak.

Goro pats him on the shoulder, and Akira, fists clenched on his thighs, notices Goro’s fingers linger, stroking up the bare skin where his neck meets collarbone. Ryuji shivers and jerks away, eyes as big as bowls of ramen.

Completely unfazed, Goro saunters back over to the counter and takes a seat, leaning over towards Yusuke, who’s still making his strange cocktails. He hasn’t looked up once since Akira saw Goro talking to him earlier, too transfixed with making another drink in a tall, clear glass. He’s pouring different liquids in it, all see-through, like water… from a bottle that is _definitely_ vodka. Akira’s stomach drops into his knees

“Yusuke,” Akira calls out sharp enough to rouse the artist from his fantastical daydreaming.

“Hmm? Yes, what is it, Akira?”

Before Akira can stop him, Goro snags the drink from Yusuke and downs it in four big gulps. Akira jumps from his seat, but horror freezes his feet to the spot even as Yusuke chuckles and smiles.

“I must say, Akechi-san, you must have quite the refined palate, I was told this recipe would never work. But I knew a worldly sort like yourself would have impeccable taste.”

Keeping a cautious eye on his now-swaying boyfriend, Akira hesitantly asks, “So what he was drinking before, that was…”

“One of my creations, yes. I learned about drink presentation and style from a website, I believe they called it ‘mixology’?”

As hilarious as it would be to ask the dreamy artist more about his adventures in “mixology,” Akira had more pressing concerns. “Right, and what exactly is in those?”

“A vodka base, mixed with simple syrup, a little water, and moonshine.”

Akira splutters. “ _Moonshine?_ Isn’t that illegal?”

He taps his chin. “No, I don’t believe so. It’s just a grain alcohol, from my understanding, with a beautifully divine name. _Moonshine._ A powerful drink with a deceptively simple beauty, I had to see what I could make of other ingredients without spoiling it’s appearance -”

“How alcoholic was the moonshine, Yusuke?”

He preens like this is leading to a compliment. “I of course use only the best materials in my work, so this particular concoction is 190 proof.”

Akira could vomit. Akechi has now had _two_ of those monsters, along with most of Ann’s fruity cocktail. He must be _hammered_ by now. That means…

“Futaba!” He whirls around on her, and she squeals and half-hides behind a frozen statue of Ryuji. By now, most of his friends had stopped what they were doing to look on this scene with concern, unsure why Akira is getting increasingly upset. “Futaba, please tell me you only gave him coffee earlier.”

“It was an espresso shot!” She mumbles in her defense, looking at the ground and clutching Ryuji’s sleeve. Ann squints between the two of them, enough of a lightweight that most of one drink has already impaired her reasoning.

“Thank god,” Akira groans, scrubbing his hand over his face. “In that case, maybe…”

He hears Futaba mumble something, and he shoots her a look. “Wait, what was that?”

Futaba groans and shrinks to an even smaller ball, if possible. “It was an espresso shot…” she repeats, barely audible. “...emphasis on the _shot._

He’s momentarily stunned, enough that he doesn’t notice Goro leaning over the counter and reaching for Yusuke. “You served him alcohol, too?”

Regaining some of her strength, Futaba stomps her foot a little hard on the wood floor. “He looked super grumpy! I thought it would help him loosen up!”

Yusuke’s voice cuts between them. “I’m flattered, Akechi-san, but I’m afraid I’m not interested.”

Akira whips his head around to see Goro, his boyfriend, halfway over Leblanc’s bar, fingers threading through Yusuke’s dark blue tresses. “Goro!” He snaps, jumping up and grabbing his hips to pull him down to his feet. Goro goes easily, moving like liquid against Akira. From the corner of his eye, he see Goro winking at Yusuke. “Yusuke, what did he say just now?”

He shouldn’t have asked. He already suspected what had been said and he knew Yusuke had no filter, so he didn’t modulate his voice at all when he said “He told him how beautiful my hair is, how much he’d like to see it spread out behind me on his pillow. Come to think of it, he said something similar. Earlier.”

 _This_ is why Akira hates when Goro drinks. He turns into the most shameless, relentless, incorrigible show-offy _flirt_ ever to be seen in Tokyo. In high school, this usually manifested as aggressive come-ons, although he managed to disguise them as threats back then. After Akira finally confessed his feelings, he caught Goro drinking heavily one last night, where he acted so completely different and soliciting him so boldly, Akira thought he was dreaming. He knew Goro wasn’t in his right mind then, so he left and checked in on him in the morning. When he realized Goro didn’t remember a minute of it, he thought it was kind of funny and teased him about it. Goro denied everything, of course, saying he’d never be interested in Akira like _tha_ _t_. But when it happened over and over again, Goro’s flirtatious words and touches and body pushing a little too close against his, he actually kind of hated it. Akira loves the Goro who is sharp, acerbic, whip-smart and a little mean, nimble with his fingers and mocking with his words as he meticulously unravels Akira with a single ungloved hand. Drunk Goro just… lacked tact. Class. Style. It didn’t suit him at all.

He’d managed to keep Goro’s serial flirting secret from most of the other Thieves, knowing it would mortify Goro and probably make his former teammates uncomfortable. He’d now failed them on both respects.

“Goro, what’s gotten into you?” Ann asks behind the hand half-covering her mouth. The surprise of the scene likely had already sobered her barely-tipsy mind. “I mean, I guess I can’t blame you for Yusuke, but _Ryuji_ too?”

“Hey!” Ryuji groans, jumping a little out of his trance.

“Is it really a surprise?” Comes Haru’s innocent, dainty voice. Makoto tries to shush her but she continues without pausing for a breath to say “He has already betrayed Akira multiple times, it’s no surprise he would flirt with other people right in front of him.”

It’s like all the air got sucked from the room, plummeting them into the cold void of space. ( _Fitting, considering her father’s Palace..._ fuck, his mind is frantically racing, why _the_ _fuck did he just think that?_ ) “Haru, that’s not fair, I don’t think,” Makoto starts diplomatically.

“Yes, Senpai,” Sumire starts, flushed with embarrassment but blessedly one of the few people Akira knew would always defend Goro in these situations. “He and Akira are very committed to each other, I’m sure we can all come to a reasonable agreement –”  
“Yoshizawa-san.” Goro’s voice rumbles like a purr, and Akira can feel it vibrate where his chest touches Goro’s back. He shivers at the tone: low, deep, possessive and hinting at dark fantasies, a voice a sober Goro would only use once Akira’s been bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Fuck, how had he not realized he was already this wasted? “I’m very sure we can all… _come_ to some kind of arrangement, can’t we? A _mutually pleasurable_ one, of course.” Akira can _hear_ the waggling eyebrows.  
Poor Sumire’s eyes nearly pop from her head, and before this night can get any worse, Akira loudly declares “Well, good night everyone, great to see you, Goro isn’t feeling well so I should get him home now!” Keeping both hands firmly around his waist, Akira drags Goro backwards from the cafe and into the backstreets of Yongen, while his slutty drunk boyfriend blows big dramatic kisses at everyone.

Out in the quiet and the cold, Akira feels short of breath, dizzy from secondhand embarrassment and a little sting of jealousy. When Goro sobers up, he’s not going to remember anything he said or did. Akira knows he’d never entertain any sort of relationship, physical or romantic, between any of his friends. Akira knew Goro was the one for him, and he was the only one for Goro. He had no reason to be jealous, and yet seeing him act like that with his friends still stung a little.

Goro turns in the circle of Akira’s arms and strokes both hands down his face. “Trying to get me alone, are you?” He leans in for a kiss, and Akira has to slap his hand over his mouth to get him to re-enter reality.

“Not now, not when you’re like this.”

“Like what?” He hums, licking Akira’s palm.

“Ugh, gross.” He absently wipes his hand on Goro’s shoulder. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

The two-bright fever of his eyes dims, dims, then breaks. Tears gather on his lower lash. “You don’t… like being with me?”

Stab of guilt right to the heart. “No, Goro, that’s not what I meant…”

He had more to say, but it’s buried when Goro nuzzles the side of his neck with his cheek, “Sorry,” he mumbles, a little maudlin. “I just… I know you love your friends, so much, and I know you love me, but I don’t think _they_ like me very much, and I bet you were just being a little possessive when you told me I flirt with people. Cuz I’m not. I’m not a flirt.”

Akira pats the back of his head in a daze, shocked his outburst but unable to look away. Like a very handsome, weepy car crash. “Sure you’re not,” he lies reassuringly.

Goro nods, accepting the obvious falsehood. “So I was nervous. I didn’t wanna mess up. I thought I’d be more friendly and nice if I drank and they’d like me more. Do they not like me? Do you not like me anymore?”

Akira sighs and runs his fingers through his hair the way he knows Goro likes, when he helps him brush and dry it after a bath. “Of course I like you. I love you, Goro.” He kisses the crown of his head, only accessible since he tucked in head so deep against the side of Akira’s neck. He’s not sure what he can say about his friends, especially after tonight’s little debacle, but for the most part, they don’t hate it. He can at least offer him that.

“Good,” Goro murmurs, that hard, horny edge creeping back into his voice. “Because you are _very_ pretty.” He cards his fingers through Akira’s hair, and his eyes clear up a little bit. “Soft…” he says, voice reduced to something less than a whisper.

“Softer than Morgana?” Akira teases.

“Softer than Morgana,” Goro affirms with absolutely unwarranted seriousness. “Softer prettier, better than anyone. I love you, Akira.”

Statements of affection aren’t rare between them anymore, but hearing even a drunk, dopey Goro say that, warms Akira down to his toes. “I love you, too. Now let’s get back home, you old drunken crow, we need damage control if you are going to have any reputation in the group ever again.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thornofthelily) where I mostly retweet P5/R stuff and a [Tumblr](https://thornofthelily.tumblr.com/) where I reblog whatever I want.


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